Never Forget
by KnuxZimRyoko15
Summary: [Corpse Bride] Takes place nearly 100some years after the movie, and partly based on the original folktale. Victor's greatgrandson no longer believes...AN: I seem to have a problem with long chapters. The next one will be a lot longer, I promise. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except for the things that I do.

"I'll live your dreams for you, I'll live your hopes for you, I'll have your children for you, I'll have enough children for the two of us and you can rest in peace knowing that our children and our children's children will be well cared for and will not forget us."

It had been the same story every year since the day he was born.

Do not forget.

NEVER forget.

Victor van Dort the 4th sighed heavily, set the picture he had been staring at down, and rolled over to his stomach. Halloween used to be his favorite holiday. He USED to look forward to the candy and all of the scary costumes. He especially used to look forward to the story. THEIR story. His family's story.

That was before his cat died, run over by a truck.

It was before he grew up, and realized that it could never have happened.

He was terrified of death now, absolutely horrified by it. Just the thought sent shivers up and down the tall boy's spine. His entire family thought it was a little odd, but he didn't care. His family was all a bunch of wackos anyway.

Victor sighed and stared at the photo again. It was ancient, a family heirloom his grandfather had told him, and it was Victor's most prized possession. Oh, he didn't openly admit that he liked it, seeing as he hated the story, but deep down he felt a strange kinship with the lanky, black-haired man grinning sheepishly back at him.

His great-great-great grandfather, Victor van Dort.

A family legend, highly revered and respected.

A man that Victor knew close to nothing about, outside the story.

Ooh, the story. The thought of it made Victor's insides turn. Grandpa would be coming over soon to tell it, wouldn't he? Victor grumbled. Just like every year, he'd sit in his chair near the fire and recite the same words over again…

"Once upon a time, your great-great-great grandfather van Dort married a corpse…"

Rubbish.

How could you marry a corpse? Not only did the thought of being anywhere NEAR a dead woman make his skin crawl, the thought of anyone in their right minds actually believing that the dead can rise again made the temptation to call the friendly men in white coats to take them away very strong.

And yet his entire family believed it. Even his father, who was a medical engineer and a man of science in many ways, listened, transfixed, to the story every year like clockwork. His mother was worse, and she wasn't even RELATED to the man in question! Madness MUST be contagious; it was the only explanation.

Sighing again, he stood up and stretched. He was tall, skinny, and had jet-black hair, traits that all the men of the family seemed to possess. He also seemed to possess the same large, soulful eyes of the original Victor. He laughed quietly. His father used to joke that he was a carbon copy of him, till grandfather sternly said, "He is, you know. A Spitting image." Grandfather had then shook a bony finger at him. "Mark my words, this boy will carry the same fate as his great-great-great grandfather. Victor, stay away from the woods."

Stay away from the woods. Yeah, Victor could do that. For all he knew, there were rapists and murderers in there. It did, however, make watching after his little sister Amelia very hard. Unlike him, she seemed to have no fear of the woods, or anything else for that matter. It was sad, so very, very sad, that if a dead mouse was found in his room that he would scream and call his sister to take care of it while he ran for the bathroom. Grimacing slightly, he sat down on his bed again. That had been yesterday, hadn't it? Victor cursed under his breath. He was a wimp, plain and simple. Amelia loved to tease him for it, but he couldn't deny it. He always had been, and probably always would be.

That made his dreams even stranger.

He had tried to explain them away to being just the effects of food poisoning, anxiety, or his little sister, but they still came. It had been the same thing, every night, for what? Two months? A fleeting glance at the world beyond the grave…it made him wake up screaming. But…for one brief, flickering moment, right before he would wake up in a cold sweat…

It seems all right to die.

Loud pounding on his door jarred him from his thoughts. Victor grumbled. "Amelia, come in before you break the whole blasted thing down."

Giggling, Amelia opened the door and entered. Her curly blonde hair bounced merrily as she jumped onto Victor's bed, and her blue eyes sparkled. "Victor, are you going to take me trick or treating this year?", she asked, looking hopeful. Ah, another family tradition. He rolled his eyes.

"Of course I'm taking you. I take you every year, remember?"

She giggled and poked him in the ribs. "I'm just making sure you don't go without me and steal all the candy before I do, is all."

He rolled his eyes again. "Amelia, I hate candy, remember?" She gave a gasp, then dissolved into another gigglefit. Shaking his head, he stood up. "alright you, go get your costume. If we take too long, we may miss grandpa's story, and we'd HATE for that to happen."

Amelia shrieked with delight. " Grandpa! Oh I can't wait!" She dashed out of his room, and Victor chuckled. Gets her every time.


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR NOTE: The ritual described below is an English Halloween tradition, and it's supposed to divine a young lady's future husband. Just a lil note!

The van Dort family had lived in the village of Browston, Norfolk for longer than anyone could remember. Their ancestral mansion, set atop a hill on the far side of town, had been surrounded by myth and legend since the middle 19th century. Its long shadow covered the town at dusk, darkening the windows and hearths of the stores and homes much quicker than normal. It was their curse, the older residents would say. Touched by the devil himself. Everyone in town knew of what had supposedly taken place within that family, and while most just shrugged it off as a silly urban legend, they still kept a good distance from that "odd family on Gersham Hill".

Victor liked it that way. He really never enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the town below him, and the distance they kept from the house made the mansion grounds extra quiet. He didn't even mind that it was that blasted story that kept them away.

Well, didn't mind TOO much, at least.

"If you love me, pop and fly…" Victor turned and scowled at Amelia. She looked at him and giggled, putting another hazelnut on the fire gate, then sitting back to watch them heat up. "If you hate me, burn and die", She giggled at that line and looked up at Victor. "Which one do you think will fly, Victor?"

He sighed and sat next to her. "Aren't you a tad young to be asking about your future husband, Amelia?" She smiled mischievously and turned back to watch the hazelnuts. The two on the left were burning up quicker than the other one. Victor looked at her quizzically. "Who are they?"

She smiled dreamily. "The left one is Michael Fulton, the cute boy in my Art class, the middle one is the grocery boy at Mr. Hampton's Grocery, and the last one is Danny Angles." She stuck out her tongue. "I hate him, he always pulls my hair." The hazelnuts had all burned up by that point, and Amelia sighed in relief. "At least I won't get married to Danny…" Victor laughed and poked her.

"Far too young to be thinking of marriage, Amelia."

---

Halloween had come on a lovely day that year. Usually, it would be uncomfortably cold and windy, but it had stayed warmer longer that year than normal. The leaves had not yet dropped from the trees, causing the forest to burn brilliantly with the reds, oranges and yellows in the late afternoon sun. "Isn't it pretty?" Amelia said, as she readjusted her princess tiara for the 40th time.

No. It wasn't pretty. Victor shuddered violently and turned away from the forest. "Come on, let's get going." He pushed her in front of him, and started walking quickly for the next house. Amelia cried out in protest, but Victor didn't listen. He had to get away from that forest.

It scared him more than death ever would, if that were possible.

---

"Alright Amelia, one more house then we have to go home, understand?" She giggled and ran ahead to Mrs. Emerson's house. Victor shuddered. The sun had set almost half an hour ago, and the streetlights barely lit the streets enough to see where one was walking. The trick-or-treaters who were still out darted in and out of the shadows like ghostly moths…No, not moths, he thought.

Like butterflies…

With an audible yelp, Victor shook his head, desperately trying to rid himself of that memory. That dream…it was getting realer, more vivid…it came during the day sometimes, and it was always those butterflies…

"Victor? Are you ok?"

Amelia was staring up at him, eyes wide, cheeks smeared with chocolate. He shook his head once more for good measure. "I'm—I'm fine. I just…don't like Halloween, is all."

---

Grandpa was already waiting for them when they finally arrived home. With an excited squeal, Amelia darted over and threw her arms around his thin and bony waist. "Grandpa!"

The elder van Dort chuckled quietly and laid a hand on the young girl's head. "Careful dear, you don't want to break your old grandfather in half would you?" Amelia pretended to look downcast and mumbled an apology, then grinned and hugged tighter. Grandpa smiled and wearily shook his head in amusement, then regarded Victor with a mischievous smirk. "Well well! Victor van Dort the 4th, you decided to grace me with your presence this year. What's the occasion?"

Victor sighed and shot him a cynical glare. "Parents are forcing me to listen to your ramblings this year." He returned the smirk. "But, I suppose it IS good to see you, grandpa, even though you're as mad as a March hare."

The old man sat down by the fire and chuckled. "I don't know where you get your personality from, young man. Certainly not MY side of the family."

Victor laughed. "I certainly hope not."

"Now Victor, that's enough." His mother walked in at that moment, shaking a cooking spoon in his face. She glared at him. "You be on your best behavior tonight, or the consequences will be severe, understand?" Victor rolled his eyes and shrugged, earning him a swift rap on the head.

"OUCH!"

Amelia burst into laughter as Victor rubbed his sore skull. His mother sighed and sat down near Grandpa. "Forgive my son, Mr. Van Dort. He's a bit…thick-headed, I'm afraid." She patted the older man on the shoulder, and said, "Now, why don't I grab the apples and nuts and you can begin your story?"

Grandpa smiled. "That sounds lovely, Christine." Nodding, Victor's mother stood and headed for the kitchen. Victor followed and helped carry the traditional snacks to the fireside coffee table, as he had done every year since he had been old enough to walk. He shook his head. He couldn't remember a year that had been different. Always the same, right down to Amelia sitting on Grandpa's knees as he lit his pipe in preparation to begin. Victor glanced casually to the blue armchair nearest the fire. That had been his spot for the past 14 years. Robotically, he began to walk over and sit, but decided on a whim to remain standing near father's chair, which was currently empty. His father, like always, would come in five minutes late and ask if he had "missed the good part". Five minutes later, his father rushed in.

"Wicked drive home, everyone. Sorry I'm late. Did I---"

"---Miss anything?" Victor finished for him, rolling his eyes. Everyone stared at him in mild shock. He just sighed again. "Father, you ask that question every year. You should know by now that, no, you haven't missed anything because we wouldn't bloody start without you—OUCH!" His mother had hit him again.

His father just laughed as he took his seat. "I know, I know, but tradition is very important!" He turned, eagerly, to Grandpa. "Speaking of which, go on with your story. We're all DYING to hear it." Victor started to mumble that he wished he could die, but his mother glared at him and he quickly became silent.

Grandpa smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Right, then. The story of the Corpse Bride." He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. "Now…how did it begin?"

Amelia giggled. "You know how it started! 'Once upon a time…'"

"Ah, yes", Grandpa said, mussing her hair gently. Like always. He cleared his throat again. "Once upon a time, your great-grandfather van Dort married a corpse." He paused, and turned to look at Victor. "It was entirely by accident, as he was engaged to be married to---"

"Great Grandma Victoria!" cried Amelia, bouncing slightly.

The old man nodded. "That's right. However, he was a bit nervous and couldn't remember his vows, so he went to the woods to practice." His face grew serious, and he let his eyes wander around the room from face to face. "Solemnly, your great-grandfather recited the vows, repeating them perfectly, right down to putting the ring on a twig that stuck out of the ground." Victor felt uneasy. This was his least favorite part. The rest of his family leaned closer in anticipation. His grandpa twisted his mouth into an eerie half-smile, and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "But it wasn't a twig at all. It was the finger of a bride, long dead and buried on her wedding night. He had married her unwittingly, and she had waited for that for a long time. With an unearthly wail, she rose from her grave and whispered—"

"For the love of god, STOP!"

All snapped their heads to stare at Victor, who was clutching the side of his head and shaking slightly. "J-Just stop, all right!" he practically screamed, causing his grandfather to drop his pipe. Victor shook his head and scowled. "You—you can't POSSIBLY believe that, can you? It's too…unrealistic! It's STUPID!" The rest of the family gasped. His mother made a motion to get up, but Grandpa stopped her, standing up shakily to face Victor. Victor backed up slightly, eyes wide. His grandpa had never looked so angry.

"Young man…" His voice was just slightly above a whisper, and he glared at Victor again. "Do you suppose we tell this story for no reason? Do you think that it's just a silly story your crazy grandfather tells every year just to annoy you?" Victor gulped audibly, and shook his head. Grabbing his cane, Grandpa hobbled slowly over to Victor, his eyes never leaving the younger man's face. "Why do you think we tell it then, if not just 'because', hmm?" He struggled with a response, but his grandfather didn't stop. Grandpa scowled and poked him sharply in the ribs. "We do it because we made a PROMISE. We promised Emily we would never forget her, and I'll thank you to remember that."

Victor opened his mouth in protest, but the silent glares he received from the rest of his family silenced him. Indignant, he ran from the room, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. He slammed the door, and flopped onto his bed. Well, at least THIS year was different, he thought bitterly. Sighing, he turned and stared at the photograph. He ran a finger over the top of it gently, and said, "It didn't happen, did it?" The man in the photo just stared back, unable to respond. Victor rolled over again and looked out his window. The moon shone bright in the night sky, and Victor smiled sleepily. Yawning, he closed his eyes.

The last thing he saw was a butterfly.


	3. Chapter 3

The moonlight shone through the thick leaves of the trees, illuminating the path. Fluttering just out of reach, the butterfly flew deeper and deeper into the woods, beckoning him to follow.

He HAD to follow. Something wonderful waited in the thicket up ahead. Quickening his pace, he broke through the line of trees into the clearing and stared up at the moon. He wasn't cold anymore.

The butterfly gently circled his head. He smiled softly, dimly aware of a multitude of butterflies gathering around him. Smiling gently, he lifted his arm to feel the soft wings beating against his clothing, his hand, and landing on his coat sleeve.

Coat sleeve…. did he own this coat? He couldn't remember…it LOOKED like his, sort of…it didn't matter. Nothing mattered at the moment.

They were joining together now, slowly spiraling around him, forming what seemed to be a face in front of him…. then hair….

She stood there in front of him, smiling, offering her hand.

_"Victor…" _

Offering him death….

_"Come with me…"_

"AAAAAUGH!"

Victor sat up, sweating. He checked his pulse. Nope, still alive. Shuddering, he glanced over at his window, walked over, and shut the curtains. He couldn't face the moon, not twice in one night. Victor sat down on his bed again. That blasted dream! This was the third time this week he'd waken up screaming. Sighing, he shook his head. Why? Why was he dreaming about it, and why NOW, of all times? The more he thought about it, the less it made sense. Nothing in the dream meant anything to him, and he couldn't hold onto the woman's face long enough to tell who it was before it slipped away into the farthest reaches of his subconscious. He felt like he should know her…

The sound of footsteps jarred him from his thoughts. Sighing wearily, he laid back down. He knew who it was before she even knocked.

"Victor?", his mother whispered, "Can I come in?"

Victor sighed and rolled over, burrowing his head between the pillow and the comforter. "Sure," he mumbled.

His mother walked over to the bed and sat down. She stroked his back soothingly. "Are you alright dear? I heard you scream." Victor just sighed loudly and burrowed deeper into his sheets. "…It's the dream again, isn't it?", she whispered as she patted his head gently. He merely nodded. She smiled gently and hugged him quickly. "Dear, you know you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you, right?"

Under the pillow, Victor smirked. "The fact that I'm grounded is bothering me. Does that count?"

She smacked his head playfully. "You deserve it and you know it. No amount of adorable will change my mind." Giggling, she stood up and walked out. "Good night, dear."

----

"Ok ok, tell me AGAIN why you're grounded?"

Victor sighed and rolled his eyes. His best friend, Stephen, could be so annoying sometimes. "I already TOLD you, I mouthed off to my grandfa—WILL YOU STOP LAUGHING ABOUT IT!"

Stephen rolled over on the ground, howling with laughter. "S-Sorry mate! C-Can't help it!" He snickered. "Of all people to talk back to, why your granddad?"

A redheaded girl next him punched his shoulder. "Shut up Stephen! It isn't funny!" Turning to Victor, she gave a disapproving look. "Honestly, can't you go through a family gathering without getting into trouble?"

Victor sighed and sat down on the grass next to them. School had just let up, and the three of them were sitting in front of the building, doing their homework together. Stephen was still laughing too hard to concentrate on his calculus. Victor scowled. "'Ey, leave me alone you two. Especially you, Em. You're supposed to be my girlfriend, after all."

Emily.

They had met in homeroom their first year of high school and had hit it off right away. It wasn't long at all before they had started dating. Victor smiled to himself. He loved everything about the fiery redhead sitting next to him. She was opinionated, passionate, and extremely kind. The fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous didn't hurt either. Victor shook his head. Yes, she was beautiful. Just as beautiful as…as…oh, who DID she remind him of! He'd never been able to place exactly who, but he knew he'd seen her before…

Emily rolled her eyes. "Well, it's your own fault." She frowned. "What exactly did you argue with your grandpa about?"

Victor groaned. "Oh, that stupid story he tells every Halloween, what else?" He idly picked a blade of grass up and stared at it. "I'm really sick of being the only one in my family who listens to logic."

Stephen looked at him quizzically. "What's your problem with that story, anyway? It's not harming anyone."

Sighing, Victor rolled onto his back. "I don't know, alright? I just…don't like it. It makes me feel uneasy, to say nothing of how illogical it is." He laughed quietly. "Huh, I'd LOVE just to prove, once and for all, that I'm right."

Stephen and Emily shook their heads. "You WOULD, would you?" Stephen said, playfully punching Victor's shoulder.

Victor sat up indignantly. "I would! In fact, I will!" He grabbed his backpack and stood up. "I'll show you, my family, and the whole TOWN that the van Dorts are normal, respectable people, not insane necrophiliacs!" He hadn't gotten more than a couple steps before Emily stopped him.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He turned his head and gave her an ice-cold glare. "Library, I've got a research project. Wanna come?"

---

"I saw that."

"Saw WHAT?"

"You yawned. You're bored, aren't you?"

Emily sighed and laid her head back down on the table. "No way, looking up useless information about the 1800s provides endless entertainment. Yes I'm bloody bored!" Victor continued to ignore her behind a rather old and dusty book they had found in the back of the library. Three hours had gone by, and they had found nothing to disprove the story (though they did find out how much a corset would've cost back then. Emily had been curious). Stephen had long since left, leaving them alone in the almost empty library.

Ordinarily, they would've enjoyed that fact, but Victor's head was somewhere else entirely today.

Groaning, Emily grabbed a book and idly started flipping through it. "What exactly are we looking for again?"

Though it wasn't visible, Emily knew that Victor had rolled his eyes. "I already told you Em, look for any references to my great-grandfather or to my family at all. Our family DID become quite famous once he started playing the piano professionally."

Her head jerked up. "You never told me your great-grandfather was a pianist."

Victor laughed quietly. "Yeah, he was. Quite well known, actually. Grandpa told me he once played for the queen, but…." He paused. "But…I don't know if can trust what my grandpa tells me." Emily gave him a sympathetic look, and he quickly turned his attention back to the book. He cleared his throat. "Well, never mind that. Let's just focus on the research, shall we?" He scanned the page. Nothing useful, just a list of important events in the town's history. Victor sighed. It would be so much easier if he knew what year the story took place. It would at LEAST list the union of the van Dorts and the Everglots, if not the actual events supposedly surrounding it.

A loud crash in the front of the library jarred him from his thoughts. Emily shrieked and fell out of her chair. "What in the world was THAT!", she asked, shakily getting to her feet again.

Victor stood and helped her up. "I have no idea. Something must've dropped." He craned his neck to get a glimpse of whatever it was, but couldn't see over the bookshelves. "C'mon, let's have a look", he said, grabbing her hand and walking towards the front.

---

"A piano?"

Victor ran a hand over the smooth mahogany mantle, looking the Grand piano over. "Who puts a piano in a LIBRARY?"

"It says here…" Emily said, as she handed him a bright yellow flier, "A famous pianist is coming here to play for the children on the 25th of November." She sat down on the piano bench and quietly played a note. "That's next week, so I guess they were getting ready for her in advance." She looked up at him and smiled. "I've heard of her, she's supposedly the best young pianist of the 21st century. Heh, I kind of want to come see that." She played a few more notes, then sighed. "I wish I could play. All I know how to do is 'Old Macdonald.'"

Victor laughed and sat next to her. "You're lucky you can play anything at all." He plunked a key aimlessly. "My great-grandpa, grandpa, and dad ALL played the piano like pros. It was completely expected of me to follow suit." He smirked evilly. "I never was one to follow tradition…"

Emily laughed. "No, you weren't." She giggled and started pressing different keys. A couple library-goers looked at them disapprovingly, which just made her giggle harder. Victor smirked and started fooling around on the piano as well. It really wasn't that bad, the piano. Why, exactly, had he never taken it up? Was it just because he was just too stubborn? It felt pretty good sitting there, his hands roaming freely over the ivory keys, hearing the different notes rising through the air and colliding together. All right, so they sounded awful, but that FEELING…the feeling of creating music was phenomenal. Maybe I could change my mind and ask for piano lessons when I get home, Victor thought. He didn't realize that his hand had stopped on a note, still pressing down as his mind wandered. "Victor? You alright?" Emily was staring at him intently, as were some of the other people there.

He looked up at her dazedly, eyes far away and glazed. "This note…it's how the song starts…" He turned back to the piano, head down, focusing only on the keys.

"How WHAT song starts! Victor, what are you---" She froze, eyes wide.

He could no longer hear her

---

His fingers curled expertly over the keys, poised. He knew this song inside and out, it ran in his blood, he was a part of it. Instinctively, he pressed the key again, letting his hand sweep over the gleaming ivories, lost in his own inner world. The tune was sorrowful and slow, rising through the silence and filling the air around him. It echoed in the massive room, enhancing the gloom of the Everglot manor. It was his song…his very soul rose and fell in time to it. He closed his eyes. Beautiful…. that was the word. He was truly free.

He didn't notice a figure behind him.

"V-Victor?"

With a yell, Victor snapped out of his trance and fell backwards off of the piano bench. Groaning, he held his head. What happened? One minute he had been laughing and fooling around with Emily, the next…had he fallen asleep? He remembered a song, and a large, gray room…He shook his head and looked up at Emily. She was just standing there, gaping at him. Confused, Victor looked around. The crowd had grown immensely since he last looked, and they all gathered around the piano, clapping furiously. Emily, however, didn't clap. She just stared at him in disbelief. "Y-You told me you couldn't play…"


End file.
